Saying your Goodbyes
by Aroara
Summary: The war ended long ago but it is not something that is easily forgotten. Barely any of the original Loric remain, and those that do, did not survive without scars


**Saying your Goodbyes**

 _ **War takes us, and breaks us**_

I stand staring down at the black marble gravestone.

Sarah had chosen a white one first, but that was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Nine would have preferred this one.

"I guess we got old, didn't we buddy" I say softly as I squat down in front of it, my wrinkled fingers tracing letters, words… _dates_.

He was never really the same when we came back to Lorien, with all those humans with legacies. I doubt he thought he should have made it considering all the things we'd lost, the people we'd lost.

One, Two, Three, Eight, Five, Malcolm, Bernie Koser…Six.

Sam was never the same after losing them both, I remember the day he came and told me he wasn't coming to Lorien, how he'd turned and walk away but Nine had followed him. He had caught his shoulder and said a few words in his ear, and that is all it had taken. Sam had broken down, a choked sob ripping itself from his throat; and Nine had stayed with him, waiting calmly for the tears to stop, before he spoke again.

"What did you say to him" I wonder aloud as the wind rustled the leaves on the tree we had buried him under. I think he would have liked this spot, it was in front of most of the graves, Six's grey marble tombstone was off to the left, a red rose lay under it. Eight's to the right, made of blue Loralite stone; Marina had created it with the last drops of her Phoenix stone from her chest. She had kissed the top of it before disappearing into the wilds of the reawakening Lorien.

One's tombstone was further back into the trees, and every so often Adam would come back from exploring our planet to leave a different seashell under the honey coloured stone. He had also asked a few of the human friends he'd made to place a different book every day at Two's midnight blue gravestone.

Sometimes I'd come here at night when the memories of war got too bad and I couldn't handle waking up screaming again, to find Nine sitting here watching over the others. I often found myself staring at Two's in particular, because if the moonlight hit it just right, it shone like glass and suddenly I was looking at a river of a thousand colours.

Three's was set in a small clearing of grass, his was a deep leaf green colour and when it had first been placed there I had found myself talking to him, thanking him for how long he had survived.

Malcolm was given an honorary gravestone of pure white. It was always the first one to draw your eyes and left a painful ache in my chest each time. _That had been my fault._

Bernie's gravestone was smaller than the others and sunset orange. I could never fully look at it.

Five, well Nine and Marina hadn't wanted him anywhere near the others, but in the end he died fighting for Lorien so he deserved something. His was made of limestone that was ever so slowly being eroded; it was set much further back than the others but still easy to find.

It was kind of ironic that Nine's was the first body we'd actually buried here.

Of course One, Two, Three and Eight's bodies had been destroyed. Five had driven a plane full bombs into the main Mogodorian warship. When Six was killed, her body turned to ash by a simple explosion, I had been silent for days. I had never seen it coming; I had always thought she of all people would survive. Bernie had jumped in front of me before a Mogdorian shoulder shot me, he died in my arms, my healing abilities stopped by Setrakus Ra. Sam had kept Malcolm's bullet ridden body on Earth, but he'd asked me to put a gravestone on Lorien, in memory of everything his father had done. Sam's hollow gaze when he's said these things still haunts my nightmares.

And now Nine.

I knew he blamed himself for each and every death, even Fives. I could see from his silence and the stony expressions that only held vacant stares; from the way he threw himself into building accommodation, digging holes, finding water, that he never thought he should have lived, never thought that he deserved it. For all the things he done, he always thought he should have died on Earth.

Ella had told me once how she'd tried to talk to him, to console him about how he did deserve to live. She had told me how he had turned to her and hissed:

"But I don't want to deserve something like this, to see all my friends die, to wake up screaming in the night, to hurt the people I love. Do I really deserve to suffer like this, tell me Ella just _tell me_ ".

He hadn't even bothered waiting for her to answer before turning and walking away.

Sometimes he'd come back to lend a hand, I got used to his silence, but I was always waiting for him to say something cocky, something that would remind me of the old him, but he never did. I think he went off with Marina or Adam a few times but eventually built himself a small hut near the other graves.

My children liked to visit 'Uncle' Nine, that's what they used to call him but neither of us minded. That was really the only time he seemed himself, alive again, not just an empty husk, even as they grew older they always managed to coax a smile out of Nine and Adam, always asking how he walked with only one leg, even Marina though her visits were rare, spanning from a week and once to a decade.

I am old now, old and grey, Sarah too. My children with children, so that makes me a Grandpa, my grandkids just love calling me Four. Of course they'll learn about the war in time, what happened, what it meant, maybe even visit Earth on an exchange, my youngest son lives there now.

Nine though, he had kept his long dark hair till the end. Never seeming to really age, apart from his eyes, they had always seemed far too old to me. I would always tease him when my kids braided his hair with pink and blue ribbons, but that would start him off on his favourite story of our times together:

"Your Dads one to laugh, one time I kicked his butt so hard he nearly fell off a roof" his voice was so clear it was like he standing right next to me.

"You tried to push me off!" I would always exclaim in mock anger as a reply, the children staring in wide-eyed anticipation.

"That's because you were always claiming you were the reincarnation of Pitticus Lore, when that was really-"

"John, dinner!" I heard Sarah call from behind me, knocking me from my memory.

"Coming" I yell back but my eyes are still fixed on the words engraved in stone:

 **A warrior**

 **A Protector**

 **An Elder**

 **A Friend**

 **Our Brother**

 **And Family**

 **You deserve to rest in peace.**

"Grandad, why are you crying?" a small confused voice asks as I feel a tiny hand grab my large one.

For once I ignore my oldest grandson Thomas, pulling out my hat instead and placing it on my head.

"Ah it looks like it's beginning to rain" I croak out, something terrifying similar to a sob creeping its way up my throat.

The boy started to frown, "No, I don't think so" he says glancing up at the clear sky just to make sure.

Images crowd my mind. Nine's smile, his laugh, his inappropriate jokes, his fierce loyalty and idiotic recklessness. The way he looked when he fought the Mog's, the way he called all of the girl's sweetheart. The dishevelled way I found him the first time we met. Dying in your sleep seemed such a peaceful way to go for someone like that. But all I could think was how he was so much more then what was written on his grave. In years to come people would see someone else when they thought of him, some romantic, distant, stereotypical hero, but that was wrong and I didn't want that, not ever.

"No it's raining alright" I reply as my face got wetter and my lips begin to tremble.

"Oh" the boy answers suddenly realising, and steering me around to lead me home, "You're right".

I take one last look with my fading eyesight and say goodbye to my best friend.


End file.
